


Close Your Eyes

by Enamourous



Series: Waking Up [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, M/M, Parent/Child Incest, Possession
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-19
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-21 12:26:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/597751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enamourous/pseuds/Enamourous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Winchester isn't the best father in the world, and Dean made a deal with a demon long before Sam was stabbed.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dean did everything he could. He really did.  
  
But at seventeen years old he didn’t have a lot to work with; he had very little knowledge of situations like these, and no outside support. What Dean did have was a gut instinct, a fierce determination to protect his brother, and not much else.

It was after he began noticing little things that concerned him that he started watching Sam more closely.  A couple months back was when Dean first picked up on the fact that something wasn’t right.  Sam had started becoming scarce when their dad was home in between hunts, somehow always managing to be in a different room. When he had no choice other than to be around John, Dean noticed his brother was tense and quiet, nothing like his usual self. Sam had never been a talker, but he hadn’t been excessively quiet either and it had gotten to the point where Sam wouldn’t say a word in their father’s presence unless he was directly addressed in such a way that he had no choice but to answer.   
  
Each time something else happened to raise Dean’s suspicions, an area deep in his stomach seemed to twist up a little tighter until he felt like he was walking around with knots in him. He considered talking to Sam about it, but that was easier said than done. Dean never had a way with words, especially ones that mattered. And so when Sam brushed off his first tentative attempts to get him to open up Dean wasn’t sure how to proceed and the conversations fizzled out. Dean told himself that if things got worse, if something happened, then he’d make Sam talk. After all Sam had always had his moments. Perhaps this was just some broody phase he was going through.   
  
But as time passed it became increasingly difficult for Dean to pretend that what he saw was just in his head. A few nights back, Dean had woken to the sounds of Sam crying in his sleep. When he tried to rouse him, Sam had started thrashing on the bed, screaming “no” and “stop” and cringing away from Dean’s touch. Dean couldn’t pretend that he didn’t notice the relief that spread through Sam’s face when he regained his bearings and remembered that it was only him and Dean there that night. That Dad was out of town hunting.  
  
He began to wonder if he should ask someone for help but he didn’t know who to reach out to. His dad would have been his first choice, but because the root of Sam’s problem seemed to be focused around him Dean figured that wouldn’t be a good decision. There was Bobby, but Dean didn’t trust him not to bring the issue to John and so in Dean’s mind that was just as risky as going straight to his father. It almost made him regret dropping out, when he remembered that at high schools they always had counselors. But when he thought about it, those people, they didn’t know anything at all. Their lives were so normal and safe compared to his and he recognized that. So what could they do about it? Dean figured that the answer was not much.  
  
So while he tried to work out what he should do, Dean would spend his nights lying in the bed across from Sam’s and trying to ignore the invisible weight pressing down on his chest. He’d look at his brother sleeping peacefully across the room and think that if anything was wrong, Sam would tell him. Wouldn’t he?  

But even in watching Sam sleeping in the bed next to his, lay another example of Sam’s changing behavior. Recently, Sam had been withdrawing from Dean as well as from their father.

The unspoken rule between them about sharing beds had always been that one, it was only allowed when Dad was away and two, they weren’t going to talk about it. That was because John had expressly told Dean to stop letting Sam sleep with him when Sam turned seven, after he found him cuddled up to Dean one morning with a fist clenched full of his brother’s t-shirt and lips pressed slack against Dean’s collar in sleep. Of course sharing beds wasn’t always avoidable; sometimes the hotel rooms only had one bed in which case Sam and Dean were allowed to take it and John would take the sofa. But Dean made a point to make sure Sam kept his distance on those nights. When they were alone it was different.  As a trained habit, Dean was a light sleeper, and the nights their Dad was away he didn’t stop Sam when he felt him moving up to lay close with him before they both fell asleep.

Maybe it was selfish of him. Because Dean knew even then what stopped him from telling Sam no. But when it came to being close to his brother, Dean didn’t want to analyze the reasons why, he just wanted it. And Sam never failed to take advantage of Dean’s weakened resolve.

But then one night a few weeks earlier, Sam never slipped in to bed with him. His little brother chose to use second one instead.

Dean wondered why the sudden change, but he sure as hell wasn’t so far gone that he was going to start asking his brother to come sleep with him, so he kept his mouth shut and didn’t question why Sam had apparently decided that right next to Dean wasn’t where he was supposed to be.  

If he had been completely honest with himself Dean would have admitted he was terrified that not only was Sam was growing up, but also away from him in the process. He would have recognized that the barely perceptible feeling that had been threatening to fight its way fully into Dean’s mind for years was something that he needed to hold himself accountable for. He would understand that there was something developing between him and Sam that transcended family ties and the need to protect one another.

For the past few years Dean had been playing with fire.

If he was reasonable when it came to Sam he would accept that his little brother was growing up now and if that meant an end to whatever secret thing hung over them when it was dark and they were alone, then so be it. But Dean Winchester was rarely reasonable when it came to his brother.

Eventually, after a second night of waking to hear Sam crying in his sleep Dean couldn’t convince himself anymore that Sam would tell him if something was wrong. The next night was the night he resolved to try harder to get Sam to open up to him, no matter how uncomfortable he was about having a heart to heart. It made sense to do it now anyway; he and Sam were going to be alone for the weekend, and Dean didn’t know how long Dad would be staying with them after that. It could be months before Dean had the right opportunity again. So he got out of bed and gently nudged Sam awake.  
  
“Hey Sammy,” Dean smoothed a hand over Sam’s hair.  
  
Nothing. When Sam was out, he was out. Dean looked down at his brother. Sam’s mouth was parted open slightly in his sleep, his cheeks flushed pink. He always got too warm when he slept. Dean tried again. “Hey man, wake up or I’m gonna tickle your lazy ass awake,” Dean poked him in the ribs, the area he always went to to get Sam laughing.  
  
Sam opened his eyes slowly and closed his mouth. He looked confused, sleepy eyes focusing on Dean. “Whaisit?” Sam slurred out, comprehension slowly coming back to him. His eyes widened a little. “Is Dad back?” The knots in Dean’s stomach tightened.  
  
“No, I just can’t sleep. Want some ramen?” Sam looked legitimately confused and Dean cursed internally at his lack of tactic.

“You woke me up to ask me if I wanted ramen?” Sam said, mildly annoyed. “Who the hell does that?”

“Come on Sam, I just want someone to talk to. Just get up would you?”

Sam grumbled, but eventually got up and moved to the table where he sat quietly on the chair behind Dean while the noodles simmered. It wasn’t often that their dad rented rooms that had kitchens in them, and even though this wasn’t a full kitchen, it had a stove and a microwave and a table. Dean didn’t really enjoy cooking or anything, but he liked it when the rooms had kitchens. It made him feel a little less like he was living in a bunch of people’s spare bedrooms, and more like he was in an actual space that was meant to be occupied. If he squinted he could pretend it was a really shitty apartment.    
  
He let the water drain out of the ramen, emptied it into two bowls and sat down at the table across from Sam, who started eating without a word. Dean watched him for a few moments but Sam didn’t say anything, didn’t even look up. He just sat there, knees drawn up to his chest looking impossibly small. It surprised Dean when the image sent an ache through his chest.  
  
“Well if I knew you were just going to pout, I wouldn’t have woken you up,” Dean said.

Sam glared tiredly up through his bangs and Dean continued. “Why don’t you talk with me about something?”

“Okay,” Sam sighed. “What is this about?”

“What is what about?”

“This,” Sam said, gesturing at their bowls with his fork. “Ramen in the middle of the night? You wanting to talk? You’re acting weird.”

Dean considered denying it, but figured there was no real point to skirting around things any more.

“I want you to tell me what’s been going on with you lately.”

“I told you Dean, I’m fine. You don’t need to keep asking,” Sam answered flatly, looking down. He really couldn’t make the lie any more obvious. This would usually be the time Dean would back off, but this time he told himself he couldn’t. He had to keep pushing.  
  
“Come on dude, you really think I’m supposed to believe that?” He said, wishing Sam would at least look at him. There was no answer so he continued. “I’m not blind. I know something has been going on with you. And I’m just saying, you can talk to me about anything, you know that right? I mean Jesus, if something is really bothering you, you don’t have to try and deal with it alone.”

Sam’s eyebrows pinched together and he tightened the grip on his fork. For a second Dean thought he might be angry, but when Sam chose to finally look up at him Dean couldn’t see any of the stony defiance he expected. His brother seemed to be listening to him for the first time in weeks; he looked as if he might actually be considering what Dean had said.

Dean felt anxiety spread through his muscles but he urged his brother on softly. “I mean it. You can tell me anything. I won’t be mad, I promise.” It was clear Sam was thinking about it, struggling to decide whether he should speak or not. The confession was resting on Sam’s tongue and Dean knew he almost had it. He couldn’t let it slip away now.

 “Seriously, you’ve got me worried Sam. I don’t like seeing you like this and I’m done ignoring it, so you might as well tell me because I’m not dropping it.”

 “I want to tell you but I can’t,” Sam said after a pause.

  
“Why not?” Dean questioned, surprised at how taken aback he was now that Sam had just confirmed that there really was something, that this wasn’t just a figment of Dean’s imagination. He knew all along it wasn’t, but hearing Sam confirm it was harder to hear than he thought.

 Sam just looked at him, refusing to speak, so Dean decided to cut to the chase. “Does this have to do with Dad?”

  
Sam shrugged tightly. That was enough of an answer in itself.

 “Did he tell you you couldn’t talk to me about it?” Dean’s voice was firm, even though he felt shaken. Another shrug. Dean’s stomach flipped as his mind went to the word that he’d been doing his best not to think about since he started having suspicions. It had to be something else. Please, let it be something else. 

  
“Sam. What did Dad tell you not to tell me?”  
  
Dean wanted to close the space between him and Sam, hold his brother’s shoulders and try to make him feel alright. He needed Sam to talk to him. He needed to know, but Dean didn’t want to frighten him. He could see that Sam was frustrated and his eyes were beginning to get glassy like they did before he cried. Dean understood that trying to get him to talk openly about it was too much for Sam at this point so he tried a different route.  
  
“Alright, I know Dad told you not to tell me. But if I guess it, that’s not the same thing. So I’ll questions and you just nod and tell me if I’m right or not okay? Can you do that for me?” Sam nodded slowly, looking unsure. Dean’s heart was threatening to beat out of his chest. How the hell was he supposed to ask Sam about this? What was he supposed to say? What was he supposed to do if Sam…if what he was afraid of was actually true?  
  
“So there is something that’s bothering you, right?” Dean started awkwardly.  
  
Nod.   _Of course there’s something wrong. Look at him. Dumbass._ Dean wiped his hands on his boxers.  
  
“Is it something that happened to you?”  
  
Nod.  
  
“Okay, and is it something that Dad did?”  
  
…Nod.  
  
“It’s something he did to you Sam?”  
  
Sam’s face screwed up in what looked like pain. Nod.  
  
“Did he hurt you? Did he hit you or something?”  
  
Sam shook his head miserably. And Dean’s stomach dropped. He realized then that he almost hoped Sam had said yes to that. There was only one other thing he could think of and it was worse. He ignored the uncomfortable territorial twinge in his gut.  
  
“Did he touch you?” Dean asked quietly, finally pushing the dark suspicion he’d been avoiding for months out into the open where it couldn’t be brushed away or taken back.  
  
Sam flushed and Dean could see he was fighting back tears. He got up and crossed over to his brother, taking his wrist and leading him over to one of the beds. Sam curled up on his side facing away from Dean and he massaged a hand over his back, kneading his fingers into Sam’s skin in little circles.  
  
“Jesus,” Dean breathed out.

 “I don’t really want to talk about this.” Sam said eventually, his voice was dripping with embarrassment.

 “Why wouldn’t you tell me about this Sam?”

The thought of Dad’s hands on his brother made Dean want to vomit and he focused hard on keeping his food down. Sam shrugged. “Guess I just did,” he said quietly. Dean tugged at Sam’s arm so he’d turn over and sit up. When he did, he could see that Sam hadn’t been able to keep all of his tears in. 

Dean worried that a hug might upset him but he pulled Sam into one anyway.  Surprisingly Sam put his arms around his neck and hugged him back, searching for safety or reassurance or just a touch that wasn’t for anything more than comfort. And Dean just held on tighter, rocking slowly and shushing into Sam’s hair.  
  
“You can’t tell him Dean. You can’t tell him I told you. He’ll be mad.” Sam pulled a handful of Dean’s shirt into his fist like he always did when he was looking for comfort.  Dean could feel Sam’s heartbeat quicken as he spoke. 

“It’s gonna be okay now Sammy. Dad’s never gonna touch you again. I’m here.” Dean attempted to keep the seething anger out of his voice. He felt like Sam was four years old again, upset and crying and wanting to be held. He wished he’d done a better job of protecting him.

That night Dean wondered if the biggest demon in his life might not be the one that burnt his mom up on the ceiling, but his father.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean barely slept for those couple days after Sam had told him and before their dad returned. The night after Sam had told him, Dean soothed him to sleep. He held him close for most of the night, trying to settle the churning in his stomach and slow his thoughts down to a speed he could comprehend. His brother had been molested. Okay. By their dad. Okay.  
  
On the nights that followed, Dean lay open-eyed in bed wondering if he could just take Sam and run. He waited for the sound of footsteps to stop outside their door, and his heart stopped each time someone passed. It was hard for Dean, coming to grips with the fact that what he had suspected was actually true. The thought had been in his head for a while so it wasn’t a complete surprise but the confirmation from Sam still made him feel like he couldn’t ground himself. He felt like he was lost and grasping for traction where there was none. And it broke his heart to look at Sam and know that their father had touched him.  
  
Dean wanted to hit something. Why hadn’t he been chosen, why did it have to be Sam? Dad hadn’t ever touched Dean. Sometimes when John drank he’d get angry, he had hit Dean a couple times before, but that was nothing. Dean mouthed off sometimes and it was his own fault he wasn’t smart enough to shut his mouth when his dad was drinking. He would have smacked himself if he could. It was never anything like this.  
  
Dean couldn’t understand. Out of him and Sam it didn’t make sense that their dad would choose Sam. He was the one who always messed things up on hunts and in school. He was the one who deserved to be punished. Sam had done nothing.  The words Dad told him so often echoed through his mind. _Protect your little brother. Look after Sammy, don’t let him get hurt._ It just didn’t make any fucking sense. Why would Dad care about Sam’s safety when he was the one hurting him?  
  
Their dad’s arrival ended up being oddly anti-climactic. Dean was surprised when he finally walked through the front door, looking tired, but otherwise just like the dad Dean had always known. It took him off guard. For some reason Dean expected him to be different, maybe with sharpened teeth and red eyes because he was a monster and that’s what monsters looked like. He half expected him to instinctively know that he and Sam had talked, maybe even come in and try to take Sam away. But nothing out of the ordinary happened. When he got home he dropped a dirty leather duffle bag on the table and addressed Sam and Dean with in a flat voice.  
  
“Hey boys, held up the fort okay while I was gone?”  
  
Sam stood slightly behind Dean, quiet and with bated breath. Dean clenched his jaw and stared at the floor. “Yes sir.”  
  
“Good. You two better get your stuff packed up. We’re heading up to Slayton tomorrow morning first thing.”  
  
And that was it. John shrugged off his jacket and disappeared into the bedroom that Sam and Dean didn’t share and closed the door, probably to sleep for the rest of the day. That wasn’t out of place for him on occasions when he returned from hunts. When the door was closed Sam seemed to start breathing again, and Dean saw the tension in his little brother’s shoulders slump out of him.  
  
“Hey Sam, remember what I told you. It’s gonna be alright,” Dean said softly even though the feeling in his gut told him otherwise. Sam nodded, but his eyes looked dull. It worsened the ache in Dean’s stomach.  
  
**  
  
The next day Dean and Sam rode quietly in the car while John drove them to Slayton. He said that they were going to be staying in a cabin this time, which under normal circumstances would have been something to be happy about seeing as both Dean and Sam loved staying in the woods. But now, sitting shotgun in the Impala and watching the trees go by, Dean was feeling seriously uneasy. All he could think about was how isolated a cabin would be, and couldn’t help but notice as more and more distance was put between them and the city limits. Scenarios started unfolding in his head and as much as he tried, he couldn’t stop them. He tried to tell himself that John had always preferred cabins to motels. He remembered when his dad told him that he liked the privacy of them. That in the middle of the woods he didn’t have to worry about the possibility that some cleaning lady was going to come in and find a duffle bag full of guns and a journal full of Latin and do something stupid like call the police. Dean told himself that that was the reason their dad had chosen these living arrangements, and not because of some underlying motive that involved getting Dean and Sam away from anyone else’s view. He repeated that over and over in his head, because regardless of how uncomfortable Dean was about it, their newest temporary home was log cabin nestled a couple miles into the woods, and he couldn’t do much of anything to change that.  
  
He glanced over at his dad in the driver’s seat. He looked like his thoughts were somewhere far away; he was staring unblinking at the road. Dean examined him, looking at the dark circles under his eyes, at the scruff growing dark around his chin and down his neck, at his worn jacket, and tried to see the monster that he knew was there. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t find any trace of it in his father’s face. His dad had bandaged him up after hunts, taught him how to load a gun, jumped in front of both him and Sam more times than he could count to protect them when things got out of hand on a job, and during all those times he had the same face he had now. Nothing had changed. Dean looked at his hands on the steering wheel and just couldn’t imagine them ghosting over Sam, touching him in ways they shouldn’t. Dean had recently started to accept that John wasn’t as perfect as he’d always thought, but he still couldn’t quite cement him with the image of the man Sam had confirmed he was.  
  
Dean’s eyes flicked over to the mirror where he could see Sam sitting in the backseat. Dean knew Sam wouldn’t lie to him, especially not about something like this. He couldn’t be making it up. But something didn’t seem right. So, he resolved that he’d keep a close watch for just a little bit longer, and if it came down to it, he’d confront John himself. Dean slumped down in his seat and brought his eyes back to look out the window as the forest flew by in a blur.  
  
When they finally arrived, Dean pushed his fears to the back of his mind and surveyed the cabin. It wasn’t a nice one, but Dean liked the look of it anyway. It had red tinted wood and a weathered roof that looked like it had seen more than a few harsh winters. When Dean stepped out of the car the musty smell of woods engulfed him. The trees came right up to the walls of the cabin and there was a path around the back that Dean could see that led into the forest. It was beginning to get overgrown though, it was green with ferns and moss that had grown over pathways someone had carved out some time before.  
  
Inside it was bare, save two sets of bunks, a black furnace and a small table that was pushed into the far corner. It smelled just as musty inside, as if nature had begun to reclaim the cabin back as its own and was halfway through the process. Dean walked in and flopped onto one of the bunks, groaning when he heard it crackle underneath him. He hated mattresses that had loud plastic on them. It made it impossible for him to sleep. He looked to the door and saw Sam walking up the steps and inside, his ratty Captain America backpack hanging off one of his shoulders. It soothed Dean’s nerves to see that Sam had traces of happiness in his face.  
  
“You can have top bunk this time Sam,” Dean said, remembering that last time they bunked he got the top. It was only fair. Sam dropped his backpack in the corner and grinned at Dean.

  
“Yeah I better.”  
  
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Dean raised his eyebrows and smiled back. “What if I change my mind?”  
  
“Then I’ll kick your ass.”  
  
“You’re thirteen dude. You can’t kick anyone’s ass. And watch your mouth.”  
  
“Fuck you.” Sam glared, because he knew full well that if he argued it would just end in Dean pinning his arm painfully behind his back and pulling cries of surrender from him. That’s how it always went.  
  
John came in soon after that, carrying his own bag and an armful of binders. He looked disappointed when he saw the size of the table in the corner but set his stuff down there anyway. Sighing as he stretched, he walked over and sank down to his own bunk.  
  
Dean could sense Sam tensing next to him. The silence that fell on the room was oppressive and uncomfortable and Dean felt the urge to fill it in an attempt to relieve some of the stress in the room. He’d barely said a word to his dad since he had gotten back yesterday, but he figured there was no point in letting him know something was up so he decided he’d do his best to act as if nothing was. That involved talking.  
  
“Hey Dad, when are we gonna eat?” Dean said, trying to keep his voice light. It was surprisingly difficult.  
  
John groaned. “You can’t tell me you’re already hungry again. We ate breakfast before we headed out here Dean.”  
  
“Continental breakfast isn’t really breakfast. It’s just coffee and oranges,” Dean screwed up his nose and stuck out his tongue. He looked sideways and saw a smile twitch at the corner of Sam’s lips.  
  
John sighed. “There was a mini-mart a little ways back down the road I think. I’ll go pick up something there in a bit.” Dean looked expectant so he continued. “But we’re not eating until later Dean. Later as in for dinner. You’re going to have to wait a little while,” He ended his sentence in a final tone. Inwardly, Dean rejoiced in the fact that his father was never someone who liked heavy conversation, and also that he seemed pretty oblivious to the obvious tension in the room. It made things easier.  
  
Eventually, Dean decided that partly to pass the time and partly to get Sam away from their Dad for a while, they were going to head out exploring. When Dean told his dad they were leaving he told them not to stay out too long because he had to talk to Dean about something later, but waved them off without any objection. He seemed pretty busy anyway, he had gotten up from his bed and was currently pinning clippings from his binders onto the walls. It was his decoration of choice wherever they stayed. Dean’s paranoia leapt up when he heard his dad needed to talk to him (About Sam? Did he know?), but he swallowed it down and told himself to be cool. There was no reason for him to think that’s what it was. In all actuality it was probably nothing to be concerned over. Before Dean followed Sam out the front door John spoke again.  
  
“I’m probably going to head over to the store in a couple minutes, I should be back by the time you get back but I’ll leave the cabin unlocked.”  
  
**  
  
Sam trudged behind Dean into the woods, struggling to keep up with Dean’s larger strides and whining whenever he’d fall behind. “C’mon Sam, don’t be such a girl,” Dean taunted. He craved normalcy and even though he didn’t feel like insulting his brother, he was tired of only being able to talk to him in hushed tones that did nothing but worsen the heavy atmosphere. He just wished things were back to normal.  
  
“Why couldn’t we just go down the path?” Sam asked grumpily.  
  
“Because paths are for pussies. Adventurers make new paths, and losers follow them.  Do you want to be an adventurer or a loser?” Dean smirked over his shoulder at his brother, who gave him a dirty look.   
  
Dean did have to admit, it was kind of disgusting out here and he almost wished he’d listened to Sam and taken the path instead. It had been overgrown from what he could see but at least he wouldn’t be carving out a whole new one. His boots and pants were already coated with mud, which sucked because he didn’t have a clean pair at the cabin, and who knew when he would have access to a washer again.  
  
“I was looking at a map in the car and it said there was a lake right around here, it shouldn’t be that far in,” Dean said. That seemed to satisfy Sam enough that he didn’t start complaining again before they got there. Luckily Dean had read the map correctly and the lake ended up being pretty close, because he knew if he got them lost Sam would be quick to start chattering on about how Dean was going to get them killed. Sammy, always the optimist.  
  
The lake was more of a pond than anything else, but it was still cool. Sam squatted on his haunches at the edge of the water, looking into the murky sludge and poking experimentally into it with a stick. Dean watched him, wanting to ask Sam some questions that he’d kept to himself last night, but feeling torn with not wanting to burden him with them just now. Sam obviously wasn’t thinking about it at the moment; he was letting the gooey mixture of mud and algae he’d gathered onto his stick plop into the water in little splashes. Dean could see from the way Sam was holding his shoulders that he was the most relaxed he’d been since Dad got home.  
  
But, Dean thought, he really did need to know some more information. It wouldn’t be comfortable, pushing Sam, but he needed to get to the truth and understand what he needed to be watching their dad for. So he waited a couple more moments, letting Sam enjoy a few peaceful minutes and then tentatively broke the silence.  
  
“Hey Sammy?”  Sam stiffened slightly, lowering his stick and turning to Dean. “Uh, you know we gotta talk eventually right? About what you told me a couple days go.”  
  
Sam looked away from him, but nodded.

“I just need to know a little more okay?” Dean saw that Sam was looking worriedly into the trees.  
  
“No one’s gonna hear us, it took us like ten minutes to walk here.”  
  
“I know,”  Sam looked back at Dean and he could see stress pulling at his little brother’s features. “Dean he said that he would hurt me if I told you.”  
  
“I’m not going to let him hurt you.”  
  
Sam didn’t respond, just looked upset. So Dean continued. “How long has this been happening?” Sam averted his eyes and started poking into the muck again, completely ignoring Dean’s question.  
  
“Sammy, please. How many times has he done something to you? More than once?” Dean dug his hands into his jacket pockets and chewed at the inside of his cheek, unable to shake the feeling that he was going about this the wrong way and he should just let Sam be. Sam just shrugged.  
  
“Okay, so he has,” Dean could feel the heat rising to his cheeks. “Does he just touch you with his hands?” The words were hard to say. They felt wrong in his mouth.  
  
“No,” Sam’s voice was small. “He uses his mouth sometimes. I’ve touched him before too.”  
  
Dean felt a sensation similar to that of someone punching him in the gut. There was a log on the ground next to him and he sat down on it, because he’d never collapsed and didn’t think he would but he wasn’t taking any chances.   
  
“He kisses me,” Sam said, eyebrows tilting up in the middle making him look scared. “Has Dad ever kissed you Dean?”  
  
“No,” Dean choked out. “No Dad’s never touched me like that.”  
  
“He says I’m supposed to be happy because it means I’m special.” It wasn’t phrased like a question, but Dean knew that it was.  
  
“You aren’t supposed to be happy about it. Especially if it makes you feel wrong Sam. If anyone ever makes you feel that way you get the hell away from them,” Dean bit out, unable to contain the anger that was boiling in him at the images swimming in his head. “From now on you don’t listen to anything Dad says okay? You don’t trust him. You trust me.”  
  
Sam stood and Dean followed suit, walking over to his brother and putting his hands on his shoulders. “Do you understand Sam? If Dad asks you to touch him again, you don’t do it.”  
  
Sam looked confused, but nodded slowly. Dean squeezed his shoulders. “If you’re ever scared or if he touches you again tell me okay? And I’ll help you.”  
  
“Okay,” Sam held an expression of utter humiliation. “Okay Dean. I’ll tell you.”  
  
Dean felt the uncomfortable atmosphere hanging around them, and decided this was enough conversation about this for now. He’d gotten more information out of Sam, and that’s all that mattered. He changed the subject and tried to lighten the mood a little, telling Sam to look for some flat rocks so he could teach him how to skip them over the water. Sam caught on quickly, and after a few tries had one rock that he got to skip twice. This got him laughing because Dean couldn’t seem to get any to skip more than once.  
  
“Okay, okay. You win. You happy?” Dean said, feeling a twinge of embarrassment that melted away when Sam looked up at him. There wasn’t any judgment in his face, just happiness.  
  
“Yeah,” Sam said with a smile.  
  
Since it was mid-November, the sun set early in the afternoon and even though it was only a short distance back to the cabin, Dean didn’t want to risk getting disoriented, so he and Sam headed back after about an hour. Sam, who had started talking quite a bit back at the water, was getting quieter as they walked, answering Dean in shorter and shorter responses. Dean wanted to comfort him but he didn’t know what to say, and he found that he too lost the urge to talk much as they closed the distance between themselves and the cabin.  
  
When they got back Dean saw that their Dad had apparently been home for a while because he had finished covering the wall with the details of the hunt he was working on. Dean hadn’t even asked what it was yet, and although he didn’t like being back in his father’s presence, he was still curious to learn what monster their Dad had been chasing. Sam hadn’t ever been into the stuff as much as Dean was.  
  
Sam crawled up into his bunk with his comics and Dean sat down on their Dad’s bed, looking at the wall where there was now a sprawl of news clippings and photos. John was hunched over a folder on the table, flipping through the papers evidently looking for something.  
  
“What is it?” Dean asked, breaking the silence. John turned around to face his son with a weary smile.  
  
“Actually, I’m still trying to figure that out. There’ve been five murders within a fifty mile radius over the past two months and they all seem to be centered around here,” John tapped a finger on a map that he’d pinned up, finger landing on a town just a couple miles east of them.  
  
“And you don’t know at all what it is?” Dean asked.  
  
“From what I’ve seen of the crime scene photos and autopsies I think I’ve got a good idea but I can’t be sure. That was actually what I wanted to talk to you about Dean. I’m going to go into town tomorrow to check out another one of the crime scenes and I’m going to need you to look after your brother,” John said, glancing up at Sam in his top bunk. Dean searched his eyes for something dark, but found none.  
  
“Okay.”  
  
John turned back to his work and even though Dean could have asked more questions he felt like Dad wanted the conversation to be over so he sighed and moved over to his bed, grumbling as he sat down about not having a TV to watch. Sam was quiet above him and Dean wondered how he could sit reading comics contentedly for hours and not want to stab himself out of boredom. Because he didn’t have much of a choice, Dean watched his Dad instead. It wasn’t very exciting but it was a better alternative to falling asleep, which was something he didn’t want to do while his Dad was awake and in the same room as Sam, just in case.  
  
Watching his dad, Dean was completely torn, not knowing how he should feel. Being in the room with his father made him uncomfortable, but it didn’t repulse him like he figured it would before John had gotten back. Dean thought it was probably because try as he might he couldn’t see that he was acting out of the ordinary in any way. He watched his dad’s every move, but if anything he seemed exceptionally uninterested in Sam. He had only directly addressed him a couple times that entire day and it was never in a way that Dean sensed was off. Everything was eerily normal. In fact if it weren’t for what Sam had told him, and for Sam’s strange behavior lately there would be absolutely nothing uncomfortable about being around his dad at all. It gave Dean a false sense of security, which he recognized he shouldn’t listen to but also, couldn’t help but be comforted by. Part of Dean wanted to ask his dad for help, that’s what he would have done if it was anyone else hurting Sam. But he couldn’t do that for obvious reasons and was left to try to muddle out what he should do with only his own thoughts as a sounding board.  
  
Dean must have lost track of time, because eventually John’s voice snapped Dean out of his musings and he jumped, startled. It had gotten darker outside.  
  
“Huh?” Dean asked when his Dad looked at him questioningly.  
  
“I said it’s time to eat. Food’s out in the car.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: No sex, but there is some underage non-con-ish stuff in here. So if that bothers you don't read this.

at the day was going to pass without a hitch, that maybe somehow nothing was falling apart after all. This desperate optimism was fighting its way into Dean’s mind, doing its best to convince him that maybe Sam had just horribly misconstrued an innocent event. He didn’t think Sam was lying of course, but sometimes people think they experience things that in reality are something completely different. Dean knew that better than most.

Deep down he knew that what Sam said had been the truth, but with every fiber of him he didn’t want to accept that. If he thought back to Sam’s words about what had happened there was no doubt that there was something to be worried about. But if Dean pushed those words from his mind and focused on the fact that his father hadn’t acted off color all day, he was able to begin to believe that things were going to be okay. Unfortunately, by succumbing to the desire to make himself feel better, Dean’s vigilance was affected. So after dinner when John asked him to dump the leftover food outside, _down at the very end of the path Dean, I don’t want to attract bears_ , Dean thought frantically for an excuse to justify why he couldn’t but when he couldn’t find one, did as he was told.

Altogether, it couldn’t have taken Dean more than ten minutes to walk down to the end of the path, dump the food and relieve himself before returning back to the cabin but it was apparently enough time. Instead of just going inside there was something that told him to hold back, and that’s what he did, climbing the steps without a sound and listening at the door. His stomach plummeted when he heard his Dad’s voice inside.

“—going to do what I want Sam. I won’t have you disobeying me.”

Dean could hear Sam’s voice, desperate and scared. “Dad stop, please. Stop.” Dean heard a floorboard groan.

“Don’t cry,” John demanded sharply. “Or else you’re going to see what your brother’s guts look like on the floor.” Dean could hear that there was a smile on his father’s lips as he said the words. There wasn’t another sound from Sam.

Dean was frozen where he stood, torn between the urge to burst in and do whatever he could to stop his dad from hurting Sam and the urge to run the opposite direction as fast as his legs would take him. But in the end, it wasn’t really a choice was it? There was no way in hell he was leaving Sam. Before he could think about what he was doing Dean pushed open the door.

His dad was crouched across the room with his back to him, and Dean gathered that he must be pinning Sam in the corner.

“Dad?” Dean’s voice didn’t sound nearly as confident as he hoped it would. John stood immediately and stepped away from Sam. Dean could see his little brother now, his shirt was slightly rucked up revealing part of his skinny torso and there were tears in his eyes. Dean looked into them and thought he’d never seen so much fear. He ripped his gaze from Sam and looked at his father, who he realized with a new wave of fear rushing through him, wasn’t his father. Last time he’d checked his dad didn’t have yellow eyes. Dean wondered through a haze of panic why the hell Sam hadn’t mentioned that it wasn’t their Dad molesting him, but a demon wearing their dad’s body.

“Hello Deano, what can I do for you?” It was his father’s voice, but the demon had twisted it slightly, so it didn’t seem right.

“Get away from Sam,” Dean growled out.

“Mmm, I would but your little brother and I are actually in the middle of something,” His dad’s face mutated into a twisted smile. “I was actually going to ask for some privacy.”

Dean’s eyes flicked down to his dad’s duffle bag, where he knew his salt guns were. He was about to make a movement for them but suddenly something heavy cracked into the side of his skull and he fell to the floor, seeing white.

“Ah ah ah, I can’t have any of that. Now be a good boy and go outside,” John’s lips curled cruelly. “Daddy’s orders.”

“You’re not my dad,” Dean spat, pushing at his temples and riding out the throbs of pain that were still shooting through his head.

“I’m not here to argue with you Dean. Now, unless you are just as eager to see your little brother come as I am, I suggest you leave.”

Dean didn’t realize he had gotten up and ran at his dad with the full intention of wringing his neck until he was flying backwards through the air and slamming into the wall. He heard Sam scream out his name. Dean’s eyes were scrunched up in pain. He felt like his head was going to split. He vainly dangled his legs, struggling to find the floor, but he was suspended.

When he opened his eyes he was startled to see yellow staring right back at him. His Dad had crossed the room and was standing inches away. Dean would have thought that seeing that sick smile wiped of his dad’s face would have been an improvement but not to this. Not to the terrifying anger that was playing over his features now.

“I’m going to punish you for that Dean,” John’s voice was low and deadly quiet. Dean could feel his Dad’s breath on his face.

“Sam run!” Dean shouted, looking desperately over to his brother. John raised a hand and Sam struggled against blind restraints, unable to get anywhere.

“Sorry, I can’t have him running off. I need him for this,” John walked back to Sam and lowered to his level, and traced a finger over Sam’s exposed skin.

“Don’t touch him, I’ll fucking kill you!”

“You can’t kill me boy. Don’t flatter yourself,” John hissed. He placed his hands on either side of Sam’s skinny hips and tugged, pulling his pants to the floor.

“Dean!” Sam let out a terrified scream, and struggled violently.

“Stop touching him! Get away from him!” Dean shouted, feeling more helpless than he’d ever felt in his life. John ignored him, and instead pushed up Sam’s shirt and splayed a large hand on Sam’s naked stomach, feeling his skin, gliding his fingers across the ridges of Sam’s ribs.

“Stop! I’ll rip you apart if you hurt him.” Dean could feel tears of frustration welling up. Sam. Not Sam. His little brother was standing there, cemented to the wall and practically naked with a huge hand on him, touching him. “What do you want?”

John dipped his head forward, laying a kiss onto Sam’s belly and mouthing over the skin in an S formation upwards over his torso. Dean could feel bile rise in the back of his throat and he screamed. “Please stop! Let me make a deal! Let me make a deal with you!” Dean hadn’t ever spoken with a demon before this, but from what he’d heard, real demons shared similarities with those of the cinema. They enjoyed making deals. It was all Dean could think of and he just wanted him to get the fuck off his brother. Relief melted through him when he saw his words had resonated with his dad. No, the demon.

“No Dean. Don’t be stupid” Sam said, looking at Dean desperately.

“I’m listening,” John’s voice came out, sickly sweet. Dean could see his Dad’s spit shining on Sam’s stomach.

“Please, just let Sam go. We can talk about it outside. Just get away from him.”

John looked suspicious at first, hesitant to release his hold on Sam. But after a moment of deliberation he clapped his hands together and a smile spread across his face. “Well dear me, I guess my curiosity is just getting the best of me Dean. Tonight’s your lucky night,” John’s body rose and Dean felt the invisible power holding him to the wall fall away and he fell to the floor. It wasn’t very graceful but he managed to stay on his feet. He looked over at the demon, afraid that when he tried to make for the door he’d be thrown across the room again. It seemed to read his mind.

“After you,” it said, flourishing its hand and bowing low.

Dean gritted his teeth, and purposefully avoided looking back at his brother. “Sam I’m going to be just outside okay? Everything is going to be alright. Don’t try to run.” He could hear Sam’s erratic breathing and wished more than anything he could go over to him, soothe him, and make everything okay. But he couldn’t.

He made himself walk out the door and cringed when he heard the demon address his brother again before following him outside. “Don’t forget to pull up your pants you little whore,” it cackled, slamming the door shut.

Dean walked over to the Impala that was parked a few feet away and stood beside it, feeling somehow comforted by the car’s presence. When he turned to face the demon in his dad’s body, he saw that it was already sauntering towards him.

“Alright Sport,” John’s voice spit the words out in a hiss. “You have my undivided attention, please share with the class.”

“Where’s my Dad,” Dean said, trying to sound confident. The demon’s loud laughter rattled his nerves.

“I don’t think you quite grasp who you’re talking to Deano. I’m afraid I’m rather lacking in the patience department, so let’s just get to the point here shall we?”

“Do I look like I give a shit about your patience?” Dean spat out. “I want to know where he is.”

The demon smiled. “Oh he’s right here,” it said, tapping a finger to his Dad’s head. “He can see everything I can. He can see you right now.”

Dean narrowed his eyes, not knowing if the demon was lying. “Prove it.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that. See, you Winchesters seem to have a penchant for making deals with demons.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Your Dad and I go way back. He made a deal with me the night I had to turn your beautiful mother into flambé.”

“You’re the demon that killed my mom?” Dean growled. The thought had crossed his mind when he’d first seen the yellow eyes, but he didn’t have time to think about it. Not with Sam being attacked.

“My friends call me Azazel, but yes. The one and only,” his Dad’s body curtsied. “See, when I came to your house that night I was just looking for Sam. I was actually planning on killing you and Daddy as well. But lucky for you, good old John here saved the day and made a deal that saved your pretty little head.”

“What was the deal?” Dean asked, feeling dread coursing through him.

“My you’re an inquisitive one aren’t you?” Azazel stepped closer and Dean forced himself to hold his ground. “Unfortunately that is none of your business, so you’ll just have to use your imagination.”

“If my Dad knows you’re doing this why isn’t he stopping you?” Dean wondered out loud, a harsh sting of betrayal coursing through him.

“Mmm, that’s the thing Deano. Your Dad is actually quite the coward. Or maybe he secretly likes what I get up to in his meat suit. Maybe he likes getting Sam all hot a flustered in the dark with big brother is away.”

Dean ignored the anger that flamed in his gut. “What is it that you want Sam so bad for? Why can’t you just leave us alone?”

“Sorry Dean, my patience is wearing very thin and I never like playing twenty questions,” Azazel’s eyes looked hungry. “So, now it’s your turn. I think you have an offer for me?”

Dean’s heart fluttered in his chest. He felt like running. He wished he had someone to help him, to back him up and tell him what to do. But the only man who could do that was standing across from him, being worn by a demon hell bent on destroying his family. Dean’s mind was racing, wondering why the demon was so interested in Sam, wondering how exactly to go about making this deal. He couldn’t just back out of this now though, he’d made up his mind. If he couldn’t do anything else he’d do this. He’d do this for Sam.

“I don’t want you touching Sam again,” Dean said slowly.

“Well I do have quite a soft spot for your brother so you’re going to have to back that up with something worth my while.”

“Whatever you’re using Sam for, use me instead.”

“Can’t. I’m sorry to say, it has to be Sam. He’s special to me.” Dean remembered Sam’s words earlier at the lake and felt sick.

“Is that why you touch him? Why you can’t keep your filthy hands off of him?” Dean bit out.

“Well, I suppose that fun stuff is just a bonus. You boys really just get under my skin, it’s a weakness. What can I say? Something about you two,” Azazel twisted John’s face into an expression of lust. “I’ve got to admit when I first chose Sam for my plans, I never imagined that when you grew up you’d be so distracting. I’m just greedy I suppose. But I really couldn’t have you making a fuss about things so I kept quiet. Best not to let on to the fact I play Daddy sometimes.”

“So do it to me instead. Stop touching Sam and just use me. I won’t fight you.”

“Well to be honest Deano, I don’t think you’d stand much of a chance if you did,” Azazel smirked, looking down Dean’s body judgmentally.

“Well it’s what you want isn’t it? One of us to let you do what you like to us?”

“You know if I admired loyalty and sacrifice, you Winchesters really would be my heroes.”

“Take it or leave it asshole,” Dean said, spreading his arms out wide and displaying his body. He’d been filled with strength from somewhere, and it was making it easier to speak to Azazel without fear. Though, even with his renewed courage seeing his father’s eyes hungrily sweeping over him made his skin crawl.

“You’re lucky I’ve got such a fondness for you Dean. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted you.”

“So is that a yes then? I let you do what you want to me and you promise you won’t touch Sam?”

Azazel traced an X with his finger over John’s heart. “Cross my heart and hope to die. I won’t touch a hair on his pretty little head.”

Dean nodded, not sure what to do next. Was that all there was to making a deal with a demon? He felt ridiculously stupid. He felt like there had to be something though, like some satanic scroll he’d have to sign or a cup he’d have to bleed into.

Azazel seemed to read his mind. “Please, let me do the honor of sealing this transaction. The pleasure is all mine.” And suddenly Azazel was advancing on him. Dean backed up in panic until he thudded into the Impala and then he felt a warm mouth on his, a tongue, his father’s tongue, pressing harshly onto his own.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: This chapter definitely contains violent non-con, parental incest and underage sex. Read at your own discretion.

The sickness that swept through Dean that first time he felt his dad’s hands on him was a feeling he’d never forget. Any strength that he’d had was shoved out of him when he felt his dad’s body pressed up against his. Suddenly there was no fight in him at all, nothing but fear and revulsion. He suppressed the urge to gag when he felt his own father’s tongue in his mouth. He couldn’t think straight, he couldn’t think at all. The only thing his brain was processing was what he felt, an insistent tongue, thick and wet on his own. And hands, slipping under his t-shirt and sliding roughly over his skin.  
  
Dean felt like if his dad’s body wasn’t pinning him to the car he might fall to the ground; he felt weak and shaky and completely defenseless against this demon’s assault. His mind suddenly went to Sam and he hoped that when he mentioned Dad kissing him, it hadn’t been like this. Dean could feel incredible strength in the hands that were grasping at his skin and he couldn’t tell if it belonged to the demon or his father. All he knew is that running would be useless. Though, he couldn’t run even if he could manage it. That was the deal after all.  
  
Azazel picked up on Dean’s thoughts and breathed words hotly onto Dean’s neck between kisses. “Oh come on Dean, frankly I’m a little disappointed. No struggle at all?” Dean felt a sharp pain shoot through his neck as teeth sunk in and he cried out. “I wouldn’t hold it against you, to be honest I like a little struggle. It would be our little secret,” he whispered the last words into Dean’s ear with a smile. “In fact what d’you say we tweak the rules a little? You can fight me Deano, as long as that’s what I want.”  
  
Dean tried to think of Sam, focus on something good. But the only thing he could see was the terror in Sam’s face, all he could hear was his little brother screaming while Azazel touched him, hurt him. Dean gasped when he felt a hand push roughly down his pants and wrap around his cock.  
  
“Son of a bitch,” Dean cursed, squirming in an attempt to get the hand off him. Azazel squeezed him harshly in response and Dean gasped in pain.  
  
“But I thought you wanted this Dean. If I hadn’t had been so agreeable I know you would have begged me to do this to you.” Azazel was stroking him now, gently, and although Dean thought there could never be a worse time, he groaned when he felt himself hardening. His own body was betraying him. Dean just shook his head in response, eyes clenched shut. Azazel continued, a spark of amusement in his voice.  
  
“Oh, what’s this? Looks like you really are enjoying yourself. Maybe I should charge?”  
  
“You’re sick,” Dean spat the words, glaring up into yellow eyes.  
  
Azazel cackled, throwing his head back and letting the laughter roll through John’s body. “Don’t say such hurtful things son,” the demon sneered, removing his hand from Dean’s pants and kneeing him hard enough that Dean doubled over in pain. Azazel gripped Dean’s collar and pulled him back up, slamming him into the side of the Impala. “You know, I think _you’re_ the one that’s sick. Getting all hard for your daddy. Wanting him to touch you, wanting him to make you come.”  
  
“I don’t want this,” Dean said angrily, unable to resist Azazel’s blatant goading. “It’s for Sam. I’m only doing this for Sam.” As soon as Dean said the words he knew it was a mistake. Azazel’s eyes glimmered greedily.  
  
“Sammy,” He breathed out the name in a way that made Dean’s blood run cold. Dean began to panic when Azazel looked towards the cabin. “I wonder how he’s doing in there. What do you say we check on him?”   
  
“No! You promised you wouldn’t touch him!” Dean renewed his struggle and tried to push his father’s body away from him, but to no avail. Azazel brought a hand to Dean’s face and roughly gripped his cheeks, ripping Dean’s gaze away from the cabin and forcing him to look into his eyes.  
  
“Don’t worry, deal’s a deal. I’m not going to touch him.” Dean felt relief wash through his body, but too soon. Azazel suddenly eased off of Dean and gripped him by the collar again, forcing him to walk towards the cabin. When he caught a glimpse of his father’s face he saw a dark smile. “But I wouldn’t want Sam to never know just how much his big brother sacrificed for him. That just won’t do.”

Dean struggled to keep his footing as Azazel pushed him up the stairs and through the doorway. He saw his brother was sitting in the corner, and he rose to his feet when he saw them come in.  
  
“Dean. Are you okay?” Sam’s wide eyes flicked down to the bloody teeth marks on his brothers’ neck. “What did he do to you?”  
  
Grimacing, Dean tried to bend his voice into a reassuring tone. “I’m fine Sam. You don’t need to worry about Dad hurting you anymore okay? I took care of it.”  
  
“What did you do?” Sam’s voice was high with panic. He looked like he was about to continue, but his eyes flicked to Azazel and he fell silent immediately.  
  
Azazel walked past Dean into the room, footsteps punctuated on the wooden floor. “Sam, did you know that you’ve got a pretty special big brother?” Sam looked into Dean’s eyes. He didn’t break contact when Azazel continued talking, he just watched Dean.  
  
“I guess Dean here had something to say about all the fun we’ve been having with each other. It seems he doesn’t like it.” Azazel was walking slowly around Dean while he talked, circling him like a vulture would over a dead animal. “So, we worked out a little arrangement.”  
  
Dean could see tears brimming in Sam’s eyes. He could barely hear it when Sam whispered, “Dean, no.”  
  
“I know, I know. I tried to tell him that you always loved it when I touched you. Because you do don’t you Sam? But he just wouldn’t listen. He’s a bit pig-headed, your brother. Wouldn’t take no for an answer.” Dean closed his eyes when he felt his father’s hand on his ass, squeezing. “But to be honest I think he’s just jealous. Wants your Dad all to himself.” Dean felt hot breath again on his neck.

Azazel directed his words at Dean this time. “Now Dean, I’m going to take what’s mine. And you’re going to be a good boy and let me, because we wouldn’t want Sammy getting hurt again would we?”  
  
When Dean opened his eyes he saw that Sam was still watching him, with an expression filled with so much hurt that Dean thought his heart might break. He knew what was coming now, he knew what Azazel was going to do to him. What Sam was going to have to see. And he couldn’t do anything to stop it.  
  
“No,” Dean answered in a broken voice.  
  
“That’s what I thought.” Azazel purred, and guided Dean roughly to one of the bunks. Dean let himself be pushed onto the mattress, holding himself up on his hands and knees.  
  
“Turn around. Take your clothes off.”  
  
“Pushy,” Dean said, but he pulled off his shirt, and stepped out of his pants and shoes. He paused after that, swallowing down the sick embarrassment he felt, and then removed his boxers and socks, tossing them into the heap of clothes next to him.  
  
“That too,” Azazel ordered, looking at the amulet that hung around Dean’s neck. Dean just shook his head.  
  
“Take it off boy,” the demon snarled fiercely.  
  
“No,” Dean snarled back.  
  
Azazel reached out and ripped it off Dean’s neck, throwing it to the ground. Dean flinched but didn’t move to retrieve it. He went still, and tried to push down the boiling anger in his stomach. The demon smiled when he saw that Dean wasn’t going to defy him.  
  
“Isn’t he beautiful Sammy?” Azazel said in a low voice, staring at Dean’s body, running his eyes over his skin greedily. Dean felt fear beginning to bubble inside him alongside the anger. He focused on Sam’s breathing to his left and it calmed him a little.  
  
Azazel bent down and whispered into Dean’s ear so only he could hear. “First I’m going to make you come in front of your brother. So he can see just how sick you are,” Dean could almost hear the smile stretched over his father’s face. “And then I’m going to fucking destroy you.”  
  
When he pulled back Dean was shocked to see that Azazel’s eyes weren’t yellow anymore, they were his fathers’ deep brown. But it was all wrong; the twisted smile was still there. Azazel answered the unspoken question that surfaced in Dean’s mind.  
  
“Still yours truly. I just wouldn’t want you to be looking into anyone’s eyes but your dear old father’s for this Deano.”  
  
Dean looked over to Sam and said the last thing he’d say to his brother before it happened.  
  
“Close your eyes Sammy. Please. Just close your eyes.”  
  
And then his dad’s hands were on him, grasping the tops of his thighs and pushing them apart. Dean braced himself on the bed and kept still, letting Azazel mouth his way up his thighs. He shuddered when the demon splayed a large hand low on his abdomen, and then licked a line up the remaining strip of skin on his thigh, letting his mouth hover over Dean’s cock. Dean could feel the warm of his dad’s breath on him. “That’s it Dean. Be a good boy and you’ll enjoy this.”  
  
Dean wasn’t even half hard before he felt his dad’s mouth on him. He was too panicked for that, in fact, his thoughts weren’t making much sense. He found himself thinking dumbly that he wished he had done this before. He always gave Sam the impression that his sexual prowess knew no bounds, but that was only half true. Well, maybe a quarter true. He’d been with a couple of girls, definitely not as many as he’d made Sam believe, but never with a guy. Not that he hadn’t thought about it, he just never found himself there at any point in his life. Now, looking down at his Dad’s head nestled between his thighs he was already regretting that this was going to be the first male blow job he ever had.  
  
The first touch of his dad’s tongue on him was almost painful, a mixture of extreme revulsion, but also of something else. Dean tried to think of something horrible, an infected wound, flying, anything that would keep him from thinking about how the way his dad’s tongue was swirling around his dick was actually starting to feel really good. Dean’s thoughts drifted to Sam and—shit, don’t think about him. Not now. Dean felt himself hardening even morewhen his dad’s mouth closed over him, slowly taking him in and then dragging his lips over Dean as he pulled back working out a steady rhythm. Dean felt a fierce blush spread through his face when his breath hitched audibly.

  
“That’s it,” Azazel breathed, letting Dean’s cock fall wetly from his mouth. “Turn over for me.”  
  
Careful not to look at Sam, Dean pulled his legs up and turned over so he was on his hands and knees. He scrunched his eyes shut, mortified, trying not to think about how his Dad was somewhere in his body still, seeing what Azazel was seeing, which at the moment was a crystal clear view of his ass.  
  
“Spread your legs like a good little bitch, Dean,” Azazel ordered, cruelty returning to his voice, which had just previously been disarmingly gentle. Dean cringed, but widened his stance.  
  
“Wider,” John’s voice sneered, grabbing hold of Dean’s thighs and positioning him so that he was spread apart, and also, on display for his brother to see. “I want Sam to have as good of a view as I have. Can’t have you being shy.”  
  
Dean grabbed a handful of the sheets and tried to breathe through his nose. He didn’t want to think about Sam seeing him like this. He didn’t want Sam seeing this at all. Suddenly Dean felt hands spreading his ass apart and a tongue gliding up the middle and Dean tensed violently. He didn’t know why people said this felt nice because to him it felt fucking disgusting having a wet tongue running over him, licking at him like he was a goddamn ice cream cone. And it was mortifying. He felt like there wasn’t a way he could feel any more exposed, and he desperately wished he could just melt into the mattress.  
  
Azazel focused in on the ring on muscle in front of him, dragging his tongue around it and then pushing in, working hard to pull little gasps out of Dean. The kid was resisting him. So Azazel reached an arm around, and took Dean’s cock into his hands, jacking it gently like he did outside. Sure enough he got the same response as he did that first time. Dean hardened fully in his hand and let out a short moan, cut off prematurely out of embarrassment.  
  
“You’re going to have let yourself enjoy it eventually kiddo. I’m not gonna stop until you come.” Something broke inside Dean when he realized that the words were true, and that he really was going to have to let himself enjoy this if he wanted it to be over with.  
  
So he focused his breathing, counted the beats of seconds out in his head and attempted to let the stress drain from his body. There was no pretending it wasn’t his dad’s hands and tongue on him, but Dean found that when he just focused on the feel of it, it wasn’t so bad. The rimming was starting to feel less strange, and paired with the friction on his cock it was making Dean’s muscles shake in pleasure. So Dean let go.  
  
He rocked back experimentally on his dad’s tongue and Azazel became more insistent, eating Dean out hungrily, pulling his ass cheeks apart further and lapping at his hole. Dean felt his heartbeat quickening as Azazel pushed his tongue inside of Dean as deeply as he could and traced his rim. His father’s hand was still pumping at his dick, and now his own precome was helping to slick the way. Dean found him panting out shallow breaths, screwing up his eyebrows and clutching at the sheets while he let himself be worked over by the demon possessing his father. He could feel pressure building in his balls and in his muscles and he shook as the pleasure kept coming, permeating his body in waves.  
  
Dean felt warm. Really warm. And he figured he was probably covered in sweat by now. He felt slick everywhere. But the sensations kept rippling through his skin and Azazel didn’t stop, just kept up that rhythm until Dean was frantically rocking into his hand, desperate for the touch. Azazel was gripping him tighter now, pulling harder and faster than before, giving a last burst of intensity that quickly pushed Dean over the edge. He was groaning obscenely when he came, his orgasm shuddering through him.  
  
The good feeling didn’t last long though, as soon as Dean had finished ejaculating he felt filthy. His thoughts went immediately to Sam and he thought he might throw up, realizing that his little brother had just seen him fucking himself back onto their dad’s tongue, and coming with his hand sliding over his dick. And it had only been a couple minutes. Dean had barely needed to be touched at all. His dad just made him come and it wasn’t even difficult. He prayed to god that Sam had kept his eyes closed like Dean had begged him to. He didn’t even want to begin to think about what his dad must be thinking. But turns out, he wasn’t going to have time to worry about that much because suddenly he felt himself being forcefully whipped onto his back.  
  
“Well I’m glad that’s over. I was getting impatient for my turn.” Azazel said, looking down at Dean with his father’s eyes. “Now we get to do what makes me feel good.” A cruel smile was on the demon’s lips when he unbuckled John’s pants and pushed them down along with his underwear.  
  
Dean had never seen his father naked like this, and definitely never with an erection. And the fear he’d felt before? In response to seeing what awaited him, it intensified to an all-consuming panic and Dean needed to run. He didn’t know a lot about anal sex but he knew that if it was dry, it hurt like hell. Fuck the deal, that wasn’t going inside him no fucking way. He started to scramble back on the blankets away from the demon but Azazel seemed to have other ideas.  
  
“Good. Fight me boy. I want you to,” it growled, grabbing harshly at Dean’s leg and dragging him back towards him. Azazel leaned forward so he was above Dean on the bed, pinning him with a hand around his neck. He clawed at his father’s grip on him but Azazel only tightened his hold, making Dean gag. “Come on Dean. Fight.”

  
Dean could hear the beating of his heart and the sound of blood whooshing through his ears. The pressure in his head pulsed with his frantic heartbeat. He was ripping at his dad’s hand, scratching at the skin with his nails, frantically struggling to get Azazel to loosen his grip but the demon just squeezed tighter. Dean couldn’t even gag anymore the grip was so strong, and he was losing his ability to think straight. He couldn’t hear Sam screaming his name. The only thing he was aware of was the knowledge that he might to die here in this bed in front of Sam, naked and lying in his own come.  
  
But just as his vision was clouding black Azazel removed his grip and Dean gasped, desperate for air. He choked when pain seared through his throat. It took him a couple moments of spluttering before he could breathe again.  
  
“Harder Dean, I want you to fight harder!” Azazel screamed in his face.  
  
So Dean didn’t think, he just sent a punch flying at his father’s face. It wasn’t a very powerful one since they were in an awkward position, but it was well aimed and deep red blood trickled down out of John’s nose and dripped down onto Dean’s cheek. “Yes,” Azazel hissed, and hit Dean back hard, making him grunt in pain. The punch had a lot more behind in than Dean’s did and Dean felt blood gushing into his mouth when one of his teeth was dislodged. He coughed, tilting his head and spitting out the tooth before he choked on it.  
  
Azazel leaned back, placed his hands on Dean’s shins and pushed them towards his torso harshly, spreading Dean open again and crudely exposing him. Dean had a fraction of a second to prepare before his dad’s fingers were prying him open and Dean was shouting in pain. He felt the fingers leave him, for just a second, and then the head of his father’s dick graze his opening. Dean’s eyes widened in fear and he looked up into his dad’s face, into his brown eyes, and desperately wished that there was some way he could regain control of his body and stop this. Dean heard Sam desperately saying his name, but he didn’t look over. He kept his eyes locked with his father’s.  
  
“Please, don’t.” Dean sobbed shamelessly through the blood in his mouth. But his dad’s cock pushed into him anyway, without any pretense or hesitation. Dean yelled through clenched teeth as he felt pain tear through him, hot enough to turn his vision white. Azazel didn’t let Dean’s body adjust to the sudden assault, he just started thrusting into him viciously, gripping Dean’s bruised neck again and pinning him to the bed so he couldn’t move. Dean feebly attempted to push the hand away from his throat but he couldn’t put much strength behind it. Pain ripped through him each time Azazel slammed inside and Dean was defenseless, legs swaying with momentum of the thrusts that wouldn’t stop coming. Through the haze of pain Dean registered that his dad’s cock was sliding into him easier now with something slicking the way, and in a realization that made him dizzy, Dean understood that it had to be his own blood.

John’s body was bent low over him now, and Dean could feel the skin of their torsos sliding together; he could feel hot breath on the side of his face as his father’s voice grunted into his ear. The grip on his neck wasn’t tight enough to choke him anymore, it was just a presence holding him there without force. Dean let his father’s body fuck into him, let the force push him repeatedly into the mattress. He just took it, completely submitted to it, letting the pain wash over him and tears spill from the corners of his eyes.  
  
It seemed like forever. The thrusting never seemed to end, just kept ripping into him, tearing him open. Dean felt his stomach convulse in response to the sound that accompanied Azazel’s thrusts; it was obscene. Wet. He wondered if the blood had anything to do with it. He was feeling lightheaded now, everything seemed to be moving slower than he thought it should, and he vaguely wondered how much blood he was going to lose. How long it would take him to die.  
  
From the way the thrusts became messy and lost their rhythm Dean gathered that his dad was going to come. A few moments later he felt him pull out completely and a hand snaked into his hair, grabbing and pulling him off the bed and pushing him onto the floor violently. His knees slammed onto the wood with a crack and he probably would have collapsed straight over if it weren’t for Azazel holding him up by the hair, tilting his head back.  
  
Dean felt the come hitting his face, spurting hot over his eyelids and lips. He could smell it in his nostrils. When he opened his eyes they were drawn to the bed, to the red stained sheets. _Damn that’s a lot of fucking blood_ , Dean thought, head swimming.  
  
“I always knew you’d be a good fuck.” Dean heard his dad’s contented voice. It sounded muddled and far away. The room was spinning. Azazel’s grip in his hair hurt. Was Sam crying?  
  
Azazel threw Dean away from him and he felt his head crack hard onto the wood, where he just lay still. He didn’t think he could move even if he wanted to, and he didn’t want to. He just wanted to sleep.  
  
The last thing he saw was the amulet lying on the floor a few inches from his face. Then everything was black. 


End file.
